


The Archer

by avatarish



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Fire Nation (Avatar), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Origin Story, POV Minor Character, Parent Death, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24519751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarish/pseuds/avatarish
Summary: He’s ten years old, and can’t wait to be just like his father.-Five times Longshot speaks, and one time he doesn’t have to.
Relationships: Jet & Longshot & Smellerbee, Jet & Longshot (Avatar), Jet & Smellerbee (Avatar), Longshot/Smellerbee (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	The Archer

He’s ten years old, and can’t wait to be just like his father.

He’s an earthbender, tall and strong and sturdy. Not like Long Xu, who is short and skinny and scrapes his knees every time he tries to copy his father’s bending moves. He wants so badly to move the dirt under his bare feet, but he never can.

Instead, his father gives him a small bow and arrow set for his next birthday.

“Long Xu,” he says. His giant, calloused hand dwarfs Long Xu’s tiny shoulder. “You can be just as good as any bender. If you practice, I know you will be even better than me one day.”

He looks up at his father, staring so proudly down at him, and grins wide, showing off the two missing teeth at the front of his mouth. “I’ll make you proud, dad.”

-

He’s thirteen, and his village is burning, fiery and red against the pitch black sky.

He’s not sure where his family is. His father ran into the chaos with the rest of the earthbenders from their village when the raid began. He left his mother with his little sister-and, spirits willing, they’re somewhere safe.

His aim with the bow has steadily improved over the years, but in the haze of thick grey smoke, he can’t see a thing. He creeps around behind a pile of ashes and burnt timber that was once a home, arrow notched and waiting to be loosed.

He’s just in time to see his father and the other earthbenders in a tight circle, back-to-back, surrounded by Fire Nation troops. He raises his bow, lines one of his arrows up with the back of one of the soldier’s necks, and is just about to let it sink itself into his head when his father raises his hands above his head.

“We surrender!” he shouts, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the soldier. “Please. You’ve destroyed our village, our crops. There is nothing left to take from us.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” the Fire Nation soldier snarls, and his father is engulfed in a wave of crackling orange fire.

He does nothing. He sits, hidden, in the ashes of the house and watches as the soldiers round up the rest of the earthbenders and march them away. He keeps vigil for his burning village until he can no longer see the army of firebenders on the horizon.

He waits until they have disappeared into the rising sun, and he creeps out, stands over his father’s body, and screams until his lungs are burning just as much as his home.

-

His fourteenth birthday finds him hungry and alone, sneaking in and out of various villages long enough to steal enough supplies to get him through the long, hot days as he travels towards Ba Sing Se. His mother’s sister lives somewhere in the middle ring; the only family he has left, now.

He’s just sat down on the grassy forest floor outside of the latest small town with his pockets full of bao buns when a shadow falls over him and he feels something sharp pressing against his back.

His bow is notched and ready, arrow resting under the tall stranger’s chin in a matter of moments. 

The boy seems alarmed for half a moment before withdrawing his hooked sword and raising his arms above his head, chuckling. “You’re quick on the draw. How far can you shoot?”

He turns and shoots, the arrow sticking into a tree branch yards away. The lanky teenager hovering above him looks impressed. “Pretty darn far. You got a name?”

He almost says it; but, as the two words swim up to the surface of his tongue, an image of his village burning to embers flashes in front of his eyes. 

“No.”

“I can respect that,” the boy says, and considers him for a moment. His eyes drift to the arrow, still stuck fast in the branch. “How about Longshot?”

The similarity is jarring, but the boy still hasn’t killed him with his strange hook swords, so he nods amicably, taking the proffered hand and standing.

“So. Longshot.” He grins, sheathing his hook swords. “Looking for somewhere to stay?”

-

He’s been with Jet for a couple months when he meets someone.

Smellerbee is small and skinny and ready to fight Jet within a moment of meeting him, a knife in one hand and a small sword in the other, teeth bared aggressively. 

“You’re a scrappy little guy, huh?” Jet says, as cocky as always.

“I’m a girl,” she says coldly, and flips him easily onto the ground, pointing her dagger at his throat.

Jet does what he always does, and Longshot’s heart palpitates slightly at it, even now; gives her his signature grin from his place on the ground and offers his hand.

Her name is Smellerbee, she says later over dinner back at the tree base. Nobody asks her about her parents; nobody needs to.

Longshot is settling in for the night when she plops down next to him. “Do you ever talk?” 

She is nothing if not blunt. It’s refreshing, he thinks. Still, he shrugs.

She tilts her head to the side. “Do you ever want to?”

Nobody has asked him that. He hesitates, then whispers.

“Sometimes.”

She smiles, and it’s genuine, and Longshot knows this because none of Jet’s smiles are ever genuine. “You can talk to me. If you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

He smiles back. Nods.

-

They’ve met the Avatar twice now; and, really, Longshot thinks twice is enough. He’s grown to enjoy silence, and their group is just so loud. Between the obnoxious boy with the ponytail who cracks jokes and the young blind girl who’s so fond of throwing rocks into other rocks, he gets no peace the entire time they stay at the tree base with them.

The second time, he doesn’t have a spare moment with which to be irritated at the noise because he’s too busy keeping himself from comparing Jet’s body, laying there broken and bruised under Lake Laogai, to his father’s ash-caked corpse. 

“This isn’t good,” the girl with the long brown hair is saying.

“You guys go and find Appa,” Smellerbee says. “We’ll take care of Jet.”

“We’re not going to leave you,” the girl protests, but Longshot cuts her off, his own voice echoing off the walls of the cave and sounding foreign and strange, even to himself.

“There’s no time. Just go.” He doesn’t think of his father, of his village burning. He thinks of Jet, offering him his hand and calling him Longshot for the first time. “We’ll take care of him. He’s our leader.”

“Don’t worry, Katara,” Jet reassures the girl. “I’ll be fine.” 

Longshot covertly squeezes Smellerbee’s hand. They both know he’s lying.

-

They make their way out of Ba Sing Se on the very last train before it falls to the Fire Nation. Longshot has no idea if his aunt is still in Ba Sing Se, much less alive; he never looked for her. After losing Jet, all he can think of is keeping Smellerbee safe.

They’re deep in the woods near Omashu when a passing messenger shouts the news.

The end of the war sees the Fire Nation removed from most of the major Earth Kingdom strongholds. He sticks with Smellerbee, wandering from town to town and ensuring that the Fire Nation has truly left. 

They end up in Yu Dao, protesting the Fire Nation’s continuing occupation. It’s there that he notices it, Smellerbee sitting on his shoulders and shouting abuse at the Fire Nation soldiers terrorizing their fellow Earth Kingdom citizens. A tiny spark, somewhere in the left portion of his chest. 

It’s nothing like the Fire Nation’s destructive flames-nothing like the inferno that took his home from him. It’s a soft little thing, dancing and laughing every time he feels Smellerbee’s hands bracing against his shoulder, her thighs against his neck.

They’re pressed up against each other on a cot later that night, eating bowls of rice in silence. When he’s emptied his, he sets it down and reaches over, tapping on her hand.

She tilts her head. “What?”

He hesitates. The small flame inside him purrs, encourages, and he slides his hand over hers, interlocking their fingers.

She nods, seeming satisfied. 

“Yeah. I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was fueled mainly by a 12AM conversation with one of my best friends trying to piece together Longshot's backstory.


End file.
